Breathing Became So Hard
by dancer51
Summary: Set directly after ELAC. Dean wonders what made him forget that he still had the most important thing in his world.
1. Giving up is so easy to do

Dean slammed the door as he walked back into Bobby's house. He knew those words would come back to bite him in the ass the moment he uttered them, but he was just too damn mad to think about that now. Mad at Sam for being who he was and pushing when he was so close to losing it already, mad at his dad for making a deal with the devil on his behalf, mad at the demon for fucking their lives up, but mostly, he was just so fucking pissed at himself he could hardly stand it. He had ripped his brother's heart out, and when Sam had come to him for deliverance he had stepped on it, grounding it into the dust that now held their father. _You really are a heartless son of a bitch Dean Winchester_ he thought with a sick smile.

"Something funny?" Bobby startled him out of his reverie.

"No, nothing at all. Just coming in to get some food." Dean made his way past the man toward the kitchen when Bobby answered. He slowed his steps.

"Sam made dinner, but it'll be cold by now." Bobby continued on his way out the door into the junkyard, doubtless to examine the damage Dean had done to the Impala. Dean didn't really feel like facing Sam right now, but his stomach growling surpassed all need for privacy from his younger sibling. He'd just get his food and get the hell out of dodge.

His fears were unwarranted as Sam was nowhere to be found. There was one plate still left on the table, macaroni and hot dogs heaped on it. There was ketchup on the table that he knew Sam had left out for him, since Sam didn't even eat hotdogs, much less with ketchup. Grabbing the bottle roughly, Dean nearly hurled it at the wall. Damn Sam for knowing him so well and coddling him, when he should want to wipe the floor with him.

After dinner, Dean trudged upstairs slowly, mulling over his brother's continued absence. Surely Sam knew not to stay outside of the wards Bobby had set up at nighttime. The demon was still out there, and they were healing still, as evidenced by the many bruises and scars still on their faces. Come to think of it, while his were healing, Sam's just seemed to get starker against his pale face. Shrugging off the thoughts of his brother, Dean washed his face and climbed into bed, ruing trying to get the dents out of his beloved car the next day.

Sun streaming through the window is what brought Dean awake the next morning. He automatically looked to his side before remembering that he had insisted on sleeping in a separate room from Sam. He shook his head to clear it from the image of Sam's hurt look at that decision, and swung his legs over the bed, ready for a new day. He had to keep going or he was going to crash and burn. His grief threatened to overwhelm him, but as long as he kept trudging along, maybe it would get better. At least he wasn't fooling himself like Sam, but a niggling voice at the back of his head disagreed with him.

Fresh brewed coffee was waiting for him in the kitchen and he silently thanked Bobby for knowing just what he wanted in the morning. Speaking of…

"Hey Bobby?" Dean yelled, opening the screen door and making his way into the yard. "Have you seen Sam?" Dean still hadn't seen his younger brother this morning, and he figured he'd better see what he was up to before Sam drove their gracious host up the wall.

"What?" Bobby raised himself up from under the Impala's hood and gave Dean a bewildered look. "He's in town still. Graveyard shift doesn't end till seven."

"What? Bobby, what are you talking about?" Dean walked quickly over to Bobby at the pitying look the older man gave him. "Bobby, tell me dammit…"

Bobby put a hand on Dean's shoulder and steered him toward the house. "Boy, I'd have hoped you both would work through this on your own, but apparently it's gonna take some talking to get through that thick skull of yours."

Dean took offense to this and went to shake Bobby's hand off his arm, but his grip was like steel, and he didn't let go until both were sitting at the kitchen table. He poured them two fresh cups of coffee while Dean followed him with narrow eyes. Heaving a sigh Bobby looked at Dean again with those sad eyes.

"When did you stop giving a damn about him?" Bobby watched as Dean did an impression of a fish out of water before holding up his hand and continuing. "Not the occasionally irked where the hell is he comment, but an actual damn?"

Dean had no response to this and it hit him that for once in his life he didn't have a quick answer.

Bobby shook his head then looked Dean square in the eye. "Your brother's been working at the all-night diner in town since you woke up. Are you telling me you didn't know?"

Dean racked his brain but could honestly say except for a few run-ins during the day when he had rebuffed his brother's attempts at conversation, he hadn't really seen him.

"But why?" Dean sounded lame even to his own ears. He hadn't been out making them money, so it would stand to reason that Sam would take the responsibility on himself. When had he become so lax in his responsibilities?

Bobby sighed again, in frustration more than anger. This was worse than he thought. "Where do you think all those fancy schmancy parts for your car have been coming from? You think I got 67 Chevy Impala engine parts just lyin around? Or the money to buy em? Your _brother_ has been working himself to the bone trying to put that car back together. One working part my ass…You know that when you were lying in a coma in the hospital that fool brother of yours wouldn't let me scrap it? He said if there was one working part we could fix it. He wasn't just talking about the car Dean. It amazes me how quick you are to give up on him when he's giving all he has not to give up on you."

Dean stared at Bobby in awe. A wave of guilt washed over him then threatening to drown him. Sam had been there the whole time, but he had pushed him away. Sam, being who he was had tried to deal with his grief in his own way, and Dean had cut him down for that too. Who was Dean becoming? When had he forgotten that Sam was the reason he lived, still lived? Flashes from the past few weeks flitted through his mind and he cringed at the realizations. Sam hovering once he woke up, only for Dean to snap at him in annoyance. Dean's insistence that they sleep in separate rooms, leaving Sam sleeping on the couch that was far too small for his lanky form. The circles deepening into black smudges beneath Sam's eyes. Dean telling him it was 'Too little, too late' on that abandoned roadway. Sam telling him he wasn't alright. The tears in Sam's eyes as he was rebuffed once again.

"Ohmigod." Dean lowered his head into his arms as Bobby awkwardly patted him on the shoulder.

"It's not too late son. That boy still looks at you with something akin to worship. There's still time to be worthy of it." With that Bobby left Dean to his musings, hoping he had saved the brothers' relationship from permanent damage.

Dean worked on the Impala until he heard footsteps come up the drive. _Of course_ Dean thought to himself. _He would have to walk, we left Bobby's only other working car on that road…_

He wiped his hands off with a dusty rag and tried not to look too eager at Sam's trudging form. He took into account how Sam's head hung low, the bangs shielding his eyes from the world. How long had it been since his brother had gotten any sleep?

Sam didn't look up until he was almost right on top of Dean. Looking up startled at his brother's presence, he rasped out an apology and turned to head into the house.

Dean's heart clenched when he saw his brother's face. He was haggard and pale and he just looked so damn _defeated_. _I did that to him_ Dean thought as he ran to catch up with Sam.

"Sammy!" he called out as he got closer. The tall form flinched at the use of the nickname, and Dean winced as he realized he hadn't called him that since before they left the hospital. Catching up he put his hand on his brother's shoulder, only to recoil from the warmth he felt there.

Dean snapped back his hand startled, and then grabbed his younger brother spinning him around. Sam wavered on his feet, but he met Dean's probing eyes with his own exhausted stare.

"Sammy, what's going on?" Dean put his hand up to Sam's forehead and hissed as he felt the heat radiating from the spot. "Sam, you have a fever."

Sam's eyes fell, and he muttered a "sorry" before his strength left him and he pitched forward onto Dean's surprised form.


	2. Taking up the mantle

Disclaimer: I do not nor will ever own or have any direct affiliation with Supernatural or any of it's charactrers. This is for fun. And what fun it is!

Dean nearly fell under his brother's dead weight, but he spread his legs for a sturdier stance and positioned Sam so his head lolled on his shoulder. He spared his flushed brother a glance before yelling out in panic.

"Bobby! Bobby I need some help out here!" Dean knew there was no way he was going to be able to maneuver Sam's girth all the way up to the bedroom alone, and he really needed to get his brother inside so he could assess what was actually wrong with him. He shuddered at the thought of entering a hospital so soon after…

"Just hold on Sammy. I got you," he whispered to his brother's still form. Sam was panting hot breath against his neck, and Dean could feel the sweat running down his brother's neck, though whether it was from his long trek back through town or the fever he didn't know. He had a sinking feeling it was the latter.

Bobby came crashing through the screen door just as Dean was starting to lose his grip on his much taller charge. He stood in surprise for a moment before spurring into action. He quickly made his way over to Sam's side and draped one of his arms over his shoulders as Dean took the other side. They started into the house and Bobby started asking his rapid fire questions.

"What happened? Did the Demon get past the wards? What…"

"Bobby! I don't know! He has a fever. We have to get him inside and cool him off. Other than that I just don't know!" Dean burst out in worry and guilt. _Never would have happened if not for you_ the voice kept repeating in his head, but he blocked it out. There would be plenty of time for self-recriminations after he got Sam sorted out.

Once inside Bobby steered them toward the couch where Sam had been staying. _Not staying _Dean thought to himself and shuffled his feet.

"Bobby lets put him upstairs. He'll be more comfortable. That couch isn't long enough for him anyway." Dean ducked his head at Bobby's knowing look when they changed directions for the stairs. He was starting to get worried at Sam's lack of response. His brother's bangs partially covered his sweat-glistened face and Dean felt a strong urge to reach out and brush them away. He would give anything right now to see Sam open his eyes or flash him that dimpled smile. Even if he was yelling or crying; anything would be better than seeing him limp between Bobby's and his arms, head lolling every which way with the movement.

Dean thought it took forever to maneuver Sam up the stairs but finally they had him in the other twin bed in the room Dean had been using. _Have I really been that selfish?_

He finally got a good look at his younger sibling and he didn't like what he saw. Sam's hair fell lank against his pale face and his cheeks were flushed with fever. What really unnerved him was the way Sam didn't even twitch. His brother was always moving in sleep; had since they were little. It made sleeping in the same bed hell when they were little because he almost always ended up on the floor due to Sam's kicking and moving. He smiled a little. That was when that ever flowing tide of guilt threatened to overtake him so he moved himself. If he didn't do something he was going to drown.

"Bobby, I need a thermometer if you've got one, and a bowl of cool water and clean rags. I think he might just be exhausted, but I don't want to mess with a high fever so soon after the accident. If anything's infected we'll go straight to the hospital." Dean then moved to remove Sam's shoes, shirt and jeans. Once he was down to his boxers he pulled the covers up to his chin, but not before he noticed the bruising up and down his brother's ribcage. His brother looked like he had lost some weight too, and just laying there brought all of Dean's transgressions to the fore. How could he have forgotten that Sam had gotten in a car wreck too? You didn't just walk away from that unscathed. A memory tickled his mind then and he looked down at his brother in worry. A nurse had told him that his brother had checked himself out against medical advice, but Dean just hadn't cared at the time. It was right after their father had died and the only thing going through his mind right then had been the monotonous tone of the heart monitor as his whole world came crashing down around him. _Not my whole world_ he corrected himself. He rested his hand against Sam's warm forehead and his heart fluttered a little at how his little brother leaned into the touch. _I haven't lost everything, not yet. Why couldn't you think about yourself for once Sam?_

Bobby walked into the room slowly, loathe to interrupt the moment when it's what had been needed for so long, but they needed to make sure Sam was okay and it was just run of the mill exhaustion. Far too often it was much more within the Winchester brood.

"Dean," Bobby said quietly, and the younger man's head shot up, once again all business. Bobby silently handed over the supplies, and then with one look back over his shoulder, he left Dean to his ministrations. He'd be called if he was needed, but in unspoken agreement, this was Dean's responsibility and he was finally taking up the mantle of big brother again.

"Sam, Sam," Dean said sharply, gently tapping the young man's cheek. "Sam, I need you to wake up for me."

Much to Dean's amusement, Sam threw an arm over his eyes when he checked his pupils (both equal and reactive _thank God_) and turned away from the light. "Mmm, Dean, sorry," Sam mumbled before falling still again. Much as this tore at Dean, he reached over to tap Sam's face again.

"Oh no you don't sunshine. You need to wake up. Don't make me stick this thermometer up…"

"Jerk," Sam rasped out, blinking owlishly up at Dean. Regardless of the glassy confused gaze and the way Sam's face pinched in discomfort, Dean thought it was just about the most wonderful thing he had ever seen. Sam's arm flopped back down to his side as if he didn't have the strength to lift it, and he groaned as he flipped over onto his side. "Dean…gonna be sick…" he barely bit out before his stomach rebelled. Dean had grabbed the wastebasket just in time and rubbed soothing circles on Sam's back as his body fought to expel its contents. By the time he was done Sam was shaking like he just couldn't get warm. His eyes rolled in his head, but after a moment he seemed to focus on Dean's worried face. "Sorry," he whispered as his eyes hooded. He didn't look back up until he felt a hand hook under his chin and raise his head. Dean was almost nose to nose with him when he did and he would have backed away had he the strength to do so.

"If you never say sorry to me again it will be too soon." Dean bit out past a lump in his throat. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

Sam nodded like Dean remembered his six year old self doing years ago, back when he thought Dean was superman and his dad could rope the moon. He smiled a little at the memory, and realized that maybe every memory he had didn't have to be bittersweet. Maybe, with each other, they could move on.

"Okay Sam, I need you to keep this thermometer under your tongue until I say. Can you do that?"

Sam nodded again with an innocence that he hadn't seen in a long long time. He went to draw a cool bath should his brother want to wash off later and when he came back he saw that Sam had nodded off, but he still had the thermometer under his tongue. When Dean looked at his temperature however, all the blood rushed from his face. 104 degrees was not good for anyone, but it could be dangerous for an adult. Dean looked from the thermometer to his brother and realized that Sam wasn't even sweating anymore his temperature was so high. His brother hadn't just nodded off, he had passed out.

"Sam, SAM!" Dean shook his brother's shoulders but to no avail. Sam's head bobbed back and forth, finally coming to a rest against the bed frame. His lips were parted and he was panting out shallow breaths. Far too shallow for Dean's liking. Oh no, there was no way in hell he was losing what was left of his fragile existence.

"BOBBY!"

A/N: Hey everybody. I'm glad you guys are enjoying this. Your reviews are wonderful and I appreciate them. I hope this chapter lives up to all the hype. This was going to be a one-shot, but my muse has decided to make it a bit longer. Thanks! Limp-sam forever!


	3. Let go

Dean lifted his head when he felt Bobby's hand on his shoulder. They had been at the hospital for the past hour, and nobody had any news about his brother. The adrenaline rush of getting Sam to the emergency room had long since abated, leaving Dean a quivering mess. The thought that his brother lie in the same hospital that had claimed their father left him bereft and lost. He was thankful for Bobby's presence; he didn't know what he'd do without the man there to reassure him.

"Dean, I'm sure he'll be okay," Bobby spoke softly behind him.

Dean rubbed his hands tiredly over his face as he nodded wearily. "I know," he answered hoarsely. "He's a Winchester."

Both men lifted their heads in hope when a doctor walked through the door to the waiting room.

"Someone here for Sam Palsey?"

Dean jumped up in earnest, heading straight for the man. He could hear Bobby hot on his heels.

"Doctor? I'm his brother. Do they know what's wrong with him?" Dean watched the doctor's face for any response.

"Mr. Palsey, why don't we sit down?" Dean seemed to hesitate, and then followed the man over to two waiting chairs. Bobby stood behind him. Both were hanging on every word.

"Mr. Palsey, Sam is suffering from septicemia. Blood poisoning in layman's terms. He apparently had a sliver of glass that the trauma team missed after the accident embedded in his right bicep. We have removed it, but now all we can do is hope the antibiotics have time to work. He was brought in with an extremely high temperature, and we're trying to get it down, but I have to warn you Mr. Palsey, it's not good. His immune system was already compromised due to the accident and blood loss."

Dean hastily wiped the tears that were forming in his eyes at the news. _Not now_ he prayed. _He's all I have left._ "Can I see him?" Dean's face fell when the doctor sighed, and he started plotting how to get in to see his brother. It was for naught though at the doctor's next statement.

"It's against my better judgment at this point, but maybe you'll be just what the doctor ordered. Only you though," he glanced at Bobby sternly, "I don't want any stress added to Sam's system. He needs all the strength he can get."

Dean flashed the biggest shit-eating grin he could manage at the doctor. "Scout's honor doc. I won't bother him."

"Alright then, follow me." He led the small family through the hospital corridors until he came upon the ICU. Dean glanced around nervously when he saw what wing they were keeping his brother in.

"We just want to be able to keep an eye on him. Come on." The doctor pushed through the doors, and Bobby nudged Dean to follow him.

"I'll be right out here," Bobby reassured.

It was eerily quiet inside the ward, and Dean winced every time his shoes scuffed on the linoleum. Most of the people lying in this part of this hospital were dying, and it made him shudder. He stopped abruptly when the man in front of him halted in front of a drawn curtain. Pulling it back, Dean got his first good look at his little brother.

Sam was as white as the sheets below him, but his face was flushed red from the fever. His hair was matted to his head by sweat. There was a thick bandage on his right arm, and he was hooked up to numerous monitors, all beeping that his brother was alive, for now. He was hooked up to two IVs, both providing the fluids that would save him hopefully. He was sleeping restlessly, and had kicked the sheets halfway off himself. None of that was unexpected. What made Dean's heart fall to his toes was the tube snaking out of his brother's mouth. The _whoosh_ of the ventilator as it breathed for his brother made him flinch every time with the reminder that Sam could not breathe for himself.

"What's that for?" Dean jerked his arm in the direction of the ventilator, but he instinctually kept his voice quiet.

"He was having trouble breathing when he came in." The doctor reassured. "It's just so that his body can completely concentrate on fighting the infection. Once he's regained enough strength, we'll remove it."

Dean nodded as if an automaton, and moved closer to his brother. He wiped the sweaty bangs off of Sam's forehead, smirking a little at the length. He had told Sam multiple times to get a haircut, but Winchester's were nothing if not stubborn. They were definitely two of a kind.

"Talk to him. Calm him down. He's still semi-conscious at times, and the fever makes him nervous. Don't bother the nurses. Maybe you can help him fight his way back." With that the doctor left Dean with the only person in the world that mattered.

Dean had been lost in his thoughts when he heard the first signs of his brother waking. He heard a slight gagging, and the beeping on the monitors sped up some. Sam started clenching his fists and shaking his head from side to side, fighting some unseen predator when Dean reached over to grasp his floundering hand. Grabbing Sam's chin, he forced him to face his direction. Sam blinked sleepily a few times, and then his eyes opened wide in a panicked, glassy stare. Dean could hear him gagging on the tube and he started rubbing circles on his chest.

"Sam, Sam! You're fine. Don't fight it. Just let go. Let go! Let it breathe for you. With me okay? In. Out. In. Out. You're fine, I'm here." They continued this way for a tense few moments until Sam's eyes sparked recognition and his muscles relaxed under Dean's hands. He was no longer fighting the ventilator, but Dean could tell he was confused and scared. Sam had a death grip on his hand, but Dean didn't feel it past the relief of seeing his brother open his eyes. He reached over for the cold compress the nurse had brought and laid it gently on Sam's forehead. It became apparent that he wouldn't be getting his other hand back for quite some time, and he was quite okay with that.

"Shh, it's okay Sammy." Dean kept rubbing soothing circles on Sam's chest and watched as his brother's eyelids slowly lowered. He calmed on the bed, but the grip on Dean's hand was unrelenting. Dean took comfort in that. Sam was still in there fighting. He sank back into his chair tiredly. He had been looking after Sam for the last 24 hours, and still his brother's fever wasn't going down. He heard talk of _brain damage _and _organ failure _but refused to listen. As long as Sammy was still in there fighting, they were winning this battle. Dean didn't know which battle; the one for Sammy's life or Dean's soul, but either way, they would be triumphant, he had no doubt.

The next time Dean was jolted from his uneasy sleep, it was to Sam thrashing on the bed. The monitors were wailing at him, and almost immediately, personnel were there pushing him out of the way. He watched on in horror as they tried to hold down his brother, all the while yelling for different medicines to stop the attack. He watched them plunge a syringe straight into Sam's arm, and almost instantaneously he went limp. He could do nothing but stare as they cleaned him up and reinserted IVs and wires that had been torn off. As the last nurse was leaving, she gave him a subtle pat on the back and a small smile in sympathy. Dean was still standing there in shock when the doctor came to stand in front of him.

"What was that?" he whispered, unaware of the tears that had started flowing down his cheeks as he watched them work on his brother.

"Dean, come sit down." The doctor led him back over to Sammy's bedside. Dean immediately grabbed for Sam's hand, being careful of the tubing and monitors. The fingers he held felt somewhat clammy, but they grasped his gently back and he was heartened by it. Sam still trusted him. He would do everything in his power to make sure things were made right between himself and his brother, but he would need Sammy healthy first.

The doctor placed a hand on his shoulder and he looked up into the kind face. The doctor addressed him as if speaking to a child, but at this point, he really didn't care. In fact, he was almost grateful for the platitudes since he felt so close to breaking himself.

"He had a seizure, but it was actually a good thing. The fever broke, and after having that high a temperature for so long, it sent his nervous system into a shock. Now we just have to wait until he wakes up to see if there was any long-term damage." The doctor patted Sam on the hang before leaving. "I'll be by in a little bit to check his vitals. He's quite the fighter."

_You have no idea_ Dean smirked. His Sam was going to be okay. He just knew it. He had to be.


	4. Maybe We'll Be Alright

"Dean, I swear, if you don't go get some damn sleep, I'll cut and run." Sam did his best to give his brother an intimidating glare, but it was offset by the corners of his mouth quirking up.

Dean glanced at Sam and smirked at him bemused. "Yeah, and who's gonna bring the wheelchair to roll you out?" Sam was definitely looking better than he had two days ago after the seizure, but he was still far from hale. His hair hung in lanky strands around his pale face, and his eyes were so sunken in he looked like a raccoon. Dean still winced every time he saw his little brother's chest and how his ribs stuck out. The kid had lost a lot of weight, but at least he was breathing on his own. Dean had to close his eyes at the memory of the ventilator. He'd never been so ecstatic than when they removed it. He remembered the hell of gagging on that thing. _Stop _he told himself. That line of thought led down a path to memories he'd rather not dwell in.

"Um hello?" Sam was waving his hand feebly in front of Dean's face. As soon as Dean looked up, he sank back into the bed. "You were a million miles away. What's up?"

Dean just shook his head and shrugged. He wasn't sure if they were ready for this talk. He knew he needed to apologize for his actions after their father's death, but he couldn't get the words past the lump in his throat every time he tried. Instead, he just sat back down on the chair that had become a second home over the last few days. A second _uncomfortable_ home, but Dean wasn't about to start complaining now that he had Sam back.

"Seriously man," Sam fixed him with those puppy dog eyes. "You need sleep, you look like hell. I'm fine now; you don't have to worry anymore."

"Like hell Sam. Just stop. I'm not going anywhere," Dean practically growled. Sam shrank back at the harsh tone, and Dean could see the shutters go down in his expressive eyes. It was the same look he had given him on that deserted roadway, and Dean's heart broke then and there. With tears welling up in his eyes, he gave a heavy sigh and grabbed for Sam's hand. The expression on Sam's face would have been hysterical in any situation but this one.

"Dean, man, I'm okay now." Sam leaned over to pat Dean on the shoulder awkwardly. When did it come to this? Why were they always walking on eggshells around each other?

"No, Sammy, you're not." Dean looked up, and Sam's eyes got wider at the look of unabashed agony on his brother's face. "Neither of us is."

Sam opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it again just as quickly. This is what he had been waiting for since their father had died, and though the raw agony his brother was in tore at his heart, he realized the necessity of this catharsis.

Tears streamed down Dean's face unwarranted and his shoulders shook in silent sobs. Sam found that his own eyes were moistening at the site. Dean's next word made his heart burst with love for his brother.

"Sam, Sammy," Dean took an exaggerated breath, "I love you. I know I don't say it enough, but I almost lost you and…" Dean couldn't finish as he was overwhelmed by emotions he had kept locked away for weeks now. With a surge he enveloped Sam in his arms and it was at that moment that Sam realized they had a long way to go, but they'd be okay as long as they had each other.

_Alright guys, that's it. I'm sorry if the ending sucked, but I'm so much better at limp!Sam than resolving stuff between them. Plus, I wanted to leave it so it could segway into Bloodlust. At this point nothing is resolved anyway, but deep down I just know Dean realizes that he'd be nowhere without Sam. _


End file.
